It Starts at Midnight
by Leeg Twins
Summary: In the third Quarter Quell, Katniss Everdeen makes one mistake: She doesn't remember who the enemy is. And so, the Games continue…
1. The Interruption

**A/N: This is an AU plotline that takes over on page 378 of Catching Fire, as if Katniss never realized the force field needed to be destroyed. This is a joint-fic written by Alex (a.k.a. avatardn-n) and I (Taylor or taylorjeanjn, if you're wondering). It's rated T for your normal Hunger Games violence. Each chapter will alternate between Peeta's point of view (written by Alex) ****and Katniss's (written by me).**

**Disclaimer: ****We don't own the Hunger Games trilogy, nor are we making any money from this. **

**Enjoy!**

**-The Leeg Twins**

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><p>- PART ONE -<p>

The Interruption

_This is it_, I think as I run as fast as I can from the lightening tree, losing sight of Beetee and Finnick as I do. Seconds ago we were right on track, already savoring our victory against Brutus and Enobaria. But then the coil was cut. It dawned on me that Katniss and I never should have split.

Everything happened in matter of seconds. Beetee, Finnick, and I were waiting for Katniss and Johanna and next thing I know, I'm running for my life before Finnick catches me. At some point I lost him and started running from Enobaria instead, luckily I find a bush that's one of the easiest to use as concealment. But then the unthinkable happens. I hear a cannon fire.

"Katniss!" I shriek.

_What do I do? What do I do?_ I scream inside my head. I don't know who that cannon fired for. I don't know who just died and who's still alive. My heart races a mile per hour and my mind can't form coherent thoughts. The only thing clear in my head is that I must get to Katniss. Another cannon fires. And I have to do it quick.

I hear a stampede of feet nearby. I'm sure it must be Finnick or Enobaria trying to find me. Assuming they're still alive. I do my math and think how improbable it would be for Katniss to be alive if they are too. No, I hope it's Katniss. As much as I pray it's her though, there's no other way to find out than to abandon my impromptu hideout. I squeeze my eyes shut, hear my uneven breathing and try to calm myself down.

"Okay, Peeta," I tell myself, "At the count of three. One…two… three!"

I sprint out of the bush and run in some direction. It's hard to tell which since the moon's not particularly bright tonight. I stumble and fall more than twice in a row. By the time I'm out of the way of the largest tree roots, my bad leg's aching like it just got chopped down again.

A third cannon sounds. Screaming her name is the best I can do to maintain my wits.

"Katniss! Katniss where are you?" I shout. I don't care I reveal my position. All I want to know Katniss is still alive. She has to! She can't be dead!

"Peeta?" I hear a girl's voice calling my name. It's Katniss. She sounds far away, though. For a minute, I sigh relieved, but then I remember that although the cannons have stop firing, we are still playing. We are still on the Games. And Katniss can still die.

"Katniss!" I shout. "Where are you?"

I keep running in no particular direction when I don't hear her screaming my name again. The physical exertion is wearing me out rapidly. My breath's sharp and my chest hurts the way it has ever since I bumped face first onto the force field. My knees are starting to give out, but I can't give in just yet. Katniss is still here somewhere. She's in danger.

"Peeta!" she screams. "Peeta, where are you?" She sounds a little more desperate, but also closer. I've almost find her.

"PEETA!" Her voice is torn, I think she ran into trouble. Johanna must be hurting her, but it's hard to tell with the jungle so dark. If she's anywhere near, it's more probable I'll miss her. I see some nearby bushes shaking. I pull my knife without hesitation, ready to kill. Whoever wants to reach Katniss will have to go over my dead body first, literally.

A figure steps out of the bush.

"Who is it?" I snarl.

"Peeta!" It's Katniss. I almost drop my knife, thinking I was about to lunge forward for the kill.

"Katniss!" I run to her and immediately pull her into my arms. I hear her giving a small whimper, but I´m so glad to see her I ignore it. Instead I kiss her head, her forehead, and one of her cheeks. She's here. She's okay. Even in the middle of the havoc, everything is suddenly better.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice muffled in my shirt.

"Yes, I am," I answer, breaking apart but holding her face in my hands. "What happened? What's going on?" Before I keep bombarding her with my questions, I notice a warm liquid has stained my right hand. It's blood and it's coming from Katniss' arm.

"Katniss, your arm!"

"It's nothing," she says shrugging away from me. Her voice is coarse. "We need to find shelter quick or they'll gain up on us."

I agree. She looks around for somewhere safe to hide, but it's almost twilight. The sun will be up soon and bushes won't do anymore.

"We have to climb a tree," she decides.

My leg hurts unbelievably bad, but she's right. The only safe place is the heights. An unpleasant feeling settles in my stomach when I think how much I hate them, but it's the only way to survive so I don't question our new plan.

As we walk I´m able to assess Katniss´s real physical condition, which is worse than bad. She trips and leans to the right when she walks. I notice not only her bloody arm but a black bruise on her temple. Five minutes pass and we don´t make any progress. In the end, I force her to let me carry her. It´s hard because my chest still hurts despite how light she is, but this is the only way to survival.

"Grab me some of that moss," she instructs me after I set her on the base of the tree's trunk. I peel as much of the greenery as I can and give it to her. She wraps her arm around it and tucks the rest on her belt.

"I'll go first," she says and wobbles as she stands up again. The morning light starts to seep through the dense wildlife, and I can see her squeezing her eyes shut as she stands.

"I can try and climb with you on my back," I say, worried she might fall on her way up.

"No, it's okay. I'm fine." She shrugs away from my touch and, very stoically, climbs up only stopping a couple of times and wincing every now and then.

"Your turn!" she says up from a very tall branch. On her command, I cling to the tree trying my best not to fall. Halfway up, I slip a bit and gasp, certain that my arms will give in. Next, I hear the branch I'm supporting my bad foot on snapping.

"I can't, Katniss!" I gasp. "I'm going to fall!"

"No you won't! Just keep climbing!" She says. "You're almost here!"

I gulp and calm down, then resume my climbing. I reach the branch Katniss picked and with her help, I'm able to sit . Thankfully it's sturdy enough to support my weight and Katniss's.

"Thank you."

Katniss nods in response.

I take a minute to catch my breath and then say, "Let me see your arm."

"It's no use, Peeta."

"Just let me see it, okay?"

Katniss sighs exasperated, and unwraps her soaked moss bandage. I feel sick to my stomach when I see the wound. It's deep and messy. It looks like someone took a small spoon and carved a hole on her forearm.

"I told you it's no use," she says as-matter-of-factly when she catches sight of my green face. But she knows what that wound means. We need to treat that or… No, there's no 'or'. We need to treat that, and soon.

"What about your head?" I ask, barely touching the bump with my fingertips. She winces.

"Don't!" she exclaims. "Johanna hit me on the head when Enobaria and Brutus cut the wire. She cut my arm as well. She had an alliance with Finnick. I heard him looking for her."

"We shouldn't have split," I say, allowing some guilt in my voice. "You were right."

"It doesn't matter now, Peeta. It's already done," she says bluntly. It takes me aback, I don't know what I was expecting now that it's us against the world again. Some making out on the tree until we fell? I don't know. In either way, her head is far more into the game than mine. I need to concentrate.

"What about you?" she asks me, her voice a notch softer. "Did Finnick hurt you? Or Beetee?"

"No," I admit. "I didn't stick around Finnick long enough to test his loyalty. But I heard Beetee whining nearby. I think he's hurt. Maybe he got electrocuted."

The foggy gray of early morning is slowly replaced by the golden strands of a rising sun. I can see everything clearer now. The jungle begins to wake up, and the color of Katniss's blood intensifies.

"Give me some of that moss," I say. She rips a portion off her belt, and I gently take the soaked one off her arm. I wipe the surrounding area clean and press the wound with my hand. I know next to nothing about first aid, but some of Katniss's knowledge stuck with me. I try to stop the bleeding.

"So what now? You think the Gamemakers will throw us a Feast?" I joke, though I hope they do. There's no way Katniss will get better by merely relying on the jungle's resources.

"Don't say that." She scowls at me. "You're not going to the Feast. I mean, there won't be a Feast in first place."

"Or maybe I can ask Haymitch for some sleep syrup."

She jerks her arm away from me but she winces at the abrupt motion. "Stop that. You won't. Didn't you just admit it's better if we stick together? Besides, I'd like to see you climb this tree again."

"Well Katniss," I say, a bit more irritated, "I hate to break it down to you, but if we don't get that wound cleaned up you'll get—"

"Blood poisoning," she finishes my sentence and stares knowingly at me. "I'm not stupid, Peeta."

"Never said you were."

She scoots closer to the trunk and stands up. I look puzzled at her. "Here," she says. "I'll climb up to see if I can spot the others. If it's clear, we can get down to look for something to use. How's that?"

"But your arm…"

"Peeta, I'll be okay!" she scolds me, though laughter is mixed up in her voice. "I'll be back in a minute."

She climbs up but I fix my eyes on her, ready in case she falls. It takes a while, but she reaches the top of the tree. I get distracted and look at the sky, thinking about how there's not the slightest drop of cool, clean water. There aren't any clouds, or sign or them. No rain.

"No rain…" I repeat to myself. But then, the word triggers an ignored, crucial fact about our position. Rain. Clouds. Storms. Lightening. The lightening tree. Suddenly, my mind is only occupied by one single question: What time is it?

"Katniss?" I shout, hoping she listens. I startle her, she almost falls.

"What?" she shouts back, irritated, though I can tell it's only because of the surprise. "You almost made me fall."

"I'm sorry! But… do you know what time is it?"

She's about to snap at me, but the clever comment tangles somewhere in her throat and I see my point finally dawning on her, too.

"No," she says. "No, but…" She looks around her, trying to figure out where we are.

I wait for her to come down, in my own small way trying to figure out where we are. A funny sensation invades my left leg, something I didn't feel before because of the prosthetic. Some kind of warm rope is tying around it, like a coil. I look down, slowly. I jump and grab the tree trunk before I lose my balance. It's a snake. A thick bright red, yellow, and black snake. A scream builds up on my chest but I tense up. _Don't you dare to move _one_ muscle_, I think.

"Uh… Katniss?" I say, but she doesn't answer. Meanwhile, the snake keeps coiling up my thigh.

"We're in five!" she finally shouts, but she doesn't come down.

"Katniss!" No answer. "KATNISS FOR THE LOVE OF LIFE, COME DOWN!"

"What now?" she shouts from up the tree, irritated again. And rightly so. I wouldn't have been surprised if my screaming sent her falling down the tree. But I don't dare to look up to see if she even notices what's going on.

"Peeta!" she exclaims. I can hear her voice closer. All of a sudden, an arrow goes through the snake on my thigh, sending it flying to the ground, dead. She's on our branch now.

"Where did that… your foot!" she exclaims and nudges the bright green snake claiming my foot with her bow.

I look down and see a nightmare. The floor is covered with thin serpentine bodies of all colors and sizes and they are slowly crawling their way up the trees.

"We have to get down!" I say and immediately hug the tree trunk, before it's too crowded with snakes.

"Wait, let me go first!" Katniss exclaims. "You'll fall!"

"No time!"

I slide down carefully, ignoring the warm bodies of the snakes circling my limbs.

"Watch your left arm!" Katniss yells, knocking a yellow snake with her bow that was about to bite me. "Careful, I'm getting down!" she says.

"Okay!"

I can tell she's struggling. I hear her wince and grunt as she goes down, sign her arm is not doing better at all, but she manages. It's a tall tree, but we work our way down steadily. Some nine feet before we touch the ground, I hear a branch snap and then, everything happens in a blur.

"Katniss!" I yell, when I see her falling down the tree. I reach for her but don't catch her. Instead, I lose my grip and fall as well, landing on a pool of snakes.

The fall knocked the air out of my lungs, but thankfully the reptiles supported it. I check the mobility of my limbs. I still work. Hearing an unnatural hissing, I get up shaking my body to get rid of the snakes that were already claiming me. I see a bulk of snakes rising, at first I think it's a mutt, but then I spot the bow and the braid.

"Katniss!" I run to her, popping a few snake heads on my way. Loud, heavy feet finally have a use in the Hunger Games. I yank her up and shake off the snakes, feeling small tiny pinches on my hands as I do.

"Run!" she yells. "Run!" I grab her good arm and pull her along. The larger snakes, some black and some deep green spot us and slither their way to us. I hear that unnatural hissing again. I know it's them. In their race to catch up with us they even bite some other smaller snakes that block their way. When I notice I'm running faster than Katniss, I figure we're in great danger. She stops several times.

"Come on, Katniss! Don't stop!"

She nods. "Sorry. There, that's the way out!" She points at a pair of thin trees that aren't covered with snakes. We sprint but just as we cross to the next hour in the clock one of the black snakes, the largest one, bites on Katniss's ankle twice. She whimpers and falls to the ground.

"Katniss!" I cry. The snake still hangs around. The other two accompanying it got blocked on the last hour section by an invisible wall like the jabberjay one. The snake rolls up to form a spring and poises for an attack. I pull Katniss out of the way, and reflexively, pull my knife out. Just as it lunges towards me, I sidestep, throw my weight on it and cut its head off. A bath of warm blood covers me. I'm sick to my stomach because the smell is unlike any other. Some mixture between rotten flesh and wet earth. Something that smells of Katniss and death at the same time. I try to ignore it but the image of me murdering Katniss, triggered by this scent, is impossible to push aside. Before I return to her, I have to stop and vomit the meager amount of food I had in my stomach. With my hands, I smear the blood away from my face, trying to lessen the unpleasant odor.

"Katniss!" She's still sitting at the base of the tree where I left her.

"Peeta!" She stands up even though I tell her not to. She wobbles and stumbles her way to me, locking her arms around my neck. "Are you okay?"

I nod. "Let's just sit for a while," I say and we both go to lean on the tree. Even when we got out of the five o'clock zone, I can still hear the hissing of the snakes. Katniss keeps quiet, but I can see she's in pain. She got bit on the ankle and her arm is bleeding freely, now that her bandage is gone.

"Do you have any more moss left?" I ask her.

"Yes, it's the last portion, though." She hands me the last piece of moss. It's smaller than the others, but it'll have to do. She offers me her arm and I start to wipe it clean.

"We'll have to make sure to get some more later," I say. "How's the ankle?"

"Peeta, we need to get moving," she says suddenly.

"No, we need to take care of you. You're hurt," I say, stubbornly.

"No, you don't understand!" she urges, ignoring me and standing up quickly. She's forced to keep still for a bit though because the blood loss is finally getting the best of her. Thinking of the consequences this might bring later on makes my stomach drop. I think of a Feast again, and how imperative it is to save Katniss's life.

"Listen!" she says again. I do listen but hear nothing.

"I can't hear anything!" Suddenly I realize what a great danger we're in. We are caught in the clock.

"What's on six?" she asks. But I don't answer. The rumbling and the trembling ground answer her. It's the beast, and by the commotion I can tell it's big, even if I'm no hunter.

She pulls my arm and heads away of the vibrating, but the nature of the mutt becomes clearer. The thumping becomes a mini earthquake, and soon I spot the creature in the distance. It's a… something. Pink, apparently made of human flesh, eyeless, with big nostrils, and a human mouth with deadly sharp teeth.

Katniss stops pulling and slips her hand into mine. I squeeze it as we both freeze. The animal sniffs the air for a while, deciding where to charge. I'm containing my breath because I know I'm easier prey, being I'm covered in blood. Slowly I release the air from my lungs but just as I inhale again, the thing spots me and charges full speed, opening its mouth and releasing a horrible screaming sound. It's a girl. I know who it is. It's Prim.

"Run, Katniss!" I push her. "Move away from me!" I shove her, because I know how paralyzed she is. Just in time, adrenaline kicks in and Katniss runs to a sprint. It doesn't take me much longer to catch up with her, and halfway through, she's forced to stop.

"Wait, I'm dizzy," she gasps and supports her hands on her knees with her head looking down. "Go on." She lets go of my hand. "I'll meet you… at the tree."

"Absolutely not. I'm not leaving you here!" I say, knowing to stop is to meet death. I push her but she doesn't respond. Meanwhile, the beast gains up on us. "Come on, Katniss! Move, don't give up! You are not dying today! Move!" That's all I can do to encourage her, but she's too tired, too weak, and too wounded to keep running. Our time runs out. The beast catches up and at the last second, I react with an impulse. I yank Katniss's bow from her hand and pull an arrow from the sheath. I'm clumsy with it, but I manage to shoot. The arrow only catches on one of the beast's paws, making him angrier.

"Stop!" Katniss coughs. "You…are…wasting…my arrows!" She snatches the weapon from me and starts shooting herself. The first arrow lodges on the beast's chest, making it slower. "I can't run for much longer…"

"You're doing fine," I say, spotting the beach in the distance. "Just keep shooting, we're almost there!"

One arrow more. Two arrows more, and the thing finally collapses.

"There! It's there!" I exclaim. We run and stumble our way down to the sand, neither sure of how we survived. I'm breathless, and so is Katniss. I lie there for a while, trying to control my breathing. Finally, when I am fairly recovered, I sit up.

"How are you?" I ask, scooting next to her.

"Alive," she says.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," I say, unable to stifle a laugh. "Let me see the ankle." I move down so she doesn't have to. It's like an orange replaced her ankle.

"It's blue," I say, raising my eyebrows.

"I know," she says. "How's your knowledge on snake bites?"

"Nonexistent." And it really is. My only reliable knowledge consists on the best way to mix icing to get a soft orange shade. It isn't exactly Games material.

"Well... I remember I once saw a guy who got bit by a rattle snake on the Games. He took a knife, peeled off the bitten part and sucked out the venom. Maybe we could give it a shot?"

"Or maybe we could just chop my foot down. Ga... my cousin once got bit by a stray snake. We didn't cut anything," she says, obviously not very fond of the idea. But to be honest, I'm glad. I don't think I have what it takes to harm Katniss in anyway, even if it's for her benefit. "We should patch this up first, anyway, don't you think?" She shows me her arm. I nod.

"Though we should clean it up over there," I say pointing at the sea. "Then we can bandage it." I stand up, offering her my hand, but her movements are clumsy and slow. Unlike Katniss.

"Here, let me carry you."

"I don't need-"

"You need to rest and do as little as possible. That's why I am carrying you, no other reason," I say just as I lift her in my arms.

"Is your ankle the only place you got bit?" I ask as I walk towards the beach.

"I think so. What about you? Did you get bit?"

"Only on my hands, though I think they're only from small snakes. They weren't poisonous." I feel Katniss getting heavier. I shake her awake. "Hey, don't fall asleep," I say softly, kissing her forehead. She startles. I don't show it, but this is Katniss most mortifying symptom yet. Her drowsiness might be due to the exertion, but the snake bite, Johanna's attack, and the loss of blood spring to my mind as the most likely reasons. If I am not able to find a way to help her get better... she could die. I feel my stomach turning and my knees buckling at the idea. No. She will live. She has to. I can't bear to consider what can happen if she doesn't, my only alternative is to have only one plan, and that is to save Katniss. I snap back to reality when my feet touch the warm saltwater.

"Come on Girl on Fire, let's get you to swim a bit."

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><p><strong>an: Alrighty! That's it for now! If you liked this chapter make sure to let us know. Also, keep tuned for chapter two, coming to you next week.**

**-The Leeg Twins**


	2. The Fire

**A/N: Thanks so much to anyone who subscribed to or favorited this story, and a special thanks to micmic022 and leighe for reviewing! We loved hearing what you thought. Look out for Chapter 3 next week, which will return to the lovely Peeta's point of view. Until then, here's some Katniss.**

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><p>-two-<p>

The Fire

"Hey. Peeta," I mumble, closing my eyes and resting my head against his shoulder while he carries me. "Bad idea. Water puts fire out."

By the time I finally hear the splashing sound that accompanies Peeta's steps and look around, he's already a little over knee-deep. The bottom of my feet barely touch the water. It's colder than I remember, and I feel a shiver run up my spine as we move further in. But at least it wakes me up.

Sooner than I'd like, the saltwater reaches my bit ankle. I hiss and lift it up, inspecting it. When I don't see any real difference, I turn my head to look at Peeta and grab one of his arms. I want to get this over with. "Let go."

"Okay, just…don't let go of me," he says, slowly putting me down.

I have to grit my teeth as my ankle submerges. More than anything, I find myself wishing I had some snow to numb it. But of course, there's nothing. Nothing but salt, anyway. Painful, cleansing salt. I remind myself that I should be grateful for this, but it's not easy. Especially knowing my arm is up next, which will be ten times worse.

Peeta notices my hesitation, or he just realizes that I'm stalling, because he speaks up from behind me. "Katniss, soak the wound."

"Really?" I shoot back with a touch of sarcasm, facing him. Instantly, I feel my face flush. He's the only reason I'm alive at all, and I repay him like this. Though I don't apologize, because he'll brush it off and pretend I didn't do anything wrong. And that's worse.

Sucking in a breath, I close my eyes again and plunge my arm under the water. The salt covers the whole area within seconds, and I let out an involuntary gasp. Immediately, I want to pull it back out, but I force myself not to. _You'll just have to do it all over again_, I sternly tell myself, _and it'll be harder next time since you know what's coming._

The pain doesn't lessen—and neither does my urge to give up and find some other way to fix it—so I let go of Peeta and hold my hurt arm in place. While I wait, I mutter obscenities under my breath. Almost all of them are about Johanna, though I save a few for Haymitch, who encouraged allies in the first place. Great advice.

I'm about to mention this aloud, even if Haymitch will make me pay for it later, when I feel Peeta's cool hand on top of mine, helping me hold the injury underwater. The other one reaches up to cup my cheek. "Does it still hurt a lot?" he asks.

Yes. It does. But I just shrug, not interested in complaining about it. It's not like that makes it better. No, what might actually help the pain would be a gift from Haymitch. But most likely, he's withholding everything because of my insults from a few moments ago. Still, I can't bring myself to regret them.

Though it does seem odd that he still hasn't sent anything that might tell us if the snake bites are poisonous. Or maybe more arrows, since I'm low after our run in with the beast. I need more, since my aim will be off anyway now that my arm is injured.

And what about Peeta? He just has the knife, which is only good if your attacker is within arms' length. Too risky.

Given the pace of the Quell so far, I highly doubt we'll make it through the next few hours without some sort of attack. And Haymitch must realize that. But whether he's annoyed with me or not, he wouldn't kill us over it. He'd help.

Unless he knows something we don't. Unless he's saving up for something big.

I picture the pair of us trying to fight off anyone in our current condition. In a battle, we're both hopeless. I'm too weak to kill anyone, and Peeta won't be able to protect himself and me. But maybe he could run. Somehow, I could make him leave.

But to do that, he'll need energy. "You can go sleep. I'll keep watch," I say, nodding back towards the sand.

"No, I'm fine. Really," he says, shaking his head. But his raspy voice betrays him. I'm about to say so when he adds, "Besides, we need to gather food, build up a fire, and figure out a new strategy. We can sleep once we've set up camp. Let me see the arm."

"I'm not putting it back in after I take it out of the water," I warn him. For right now, whether it seems cleared up or not, I don't care.

Trying not to move it too much, I lift my arm. Now that the blood has washed away, I can see just how deep the gash is. It's not good. But, as far as I can see, it's stopped bleeding. "Not bad," I say quietly, "They'll have to call you Doctor Peeta back in District 12."

"Maybe I'll set up my own shop and let Prim run it," he says. I almost manage to smile at him, deciding I like that idea, when he turns serious again. "What about the foot? You think you can sit by the sand now?"

I'm not sure, so I don't bother to answer. Instead, I take his hand under the water and trudge my way to the beach. Oddly enough, it's a lot harder for me to move around on land but I manage to walk about ten feet.

Taking Peeta with me, I plop down on the sand and straighten my leg out. The bitten ankle is swelling and numb. "It's better," I say, unsure if this is a lie or not.

He grabs a hold of my hand, which is sticky and wet with the saltwater, and holds it tightly. His stomach growls, and he says, "I'm starting to miss the perks of District 4. You think Finnick made it out alive?"

"Maybe. Someone died, but it could've been anyone." I sigh, wishing Haymitch would stop sulking and just give us some bread. We haven't gotten anything from our sponsors yet besides the spile, and I'm sure they're really paying up. Especially since I'm supposed to be pregnant.

My eyes widen as I realize we've completely ignored this whole part of our charade. My words come out awkward, like they almost always do when I act, but I still say, "When I fell from the tree…what about the…?" I can't bring myself to say it, because I already sound ridiculous enough.

Luckily for me, Peeta catches on and saves the conversation. As usual. He scrambles over to sit next to me, his expression a mixture of seriousness, sadness, and worry. "What about him? Are you okay?" He puts one hand on top of my belly and leans down to kiss. I shift uncomfortably and hope no one notices—especially the sponsors back home— but their focus should still be on Peeta as he says, "You still there, fella? Hang in there, you're almost home now."

A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Almost home. How soon is almost? In forty-eight hours? Twenty-four? _Twelve_? It doesn't matter. It's too soon. Too soon to even think about losing Peeta, let alone watching it happen.

And meanwhile, I'm supposed to pretend that I've accepted the locket and am ready to move on without him. But I can't do that today. Not now. Peeta will just have to get over it.

Fortunately, he doesn't notice anything strange about my demeanor because his attention is occupied. I crank my neck to see what he's looking at and spot a parachute and basket floating down from the sky near the trees.

He hops to his feet eagerly, and I just watch. I don't want to know what it is. Too little, too late.

"Look what they've sent you, love," he says, holding up bread and a clean bandage. Sitting back down on the ground, he kisses my cheek.

I take the bandage and roughly tear the wrappings off with nothing more than a subdued, "Thanks." I'm supposed to be rejoicing, but instead I just stare at him, wondering what it'll take to make him keep fighting after I've taken myself out of the arena. Maybe there isn't anything, and that's the worst thought of all.

A dark look crosses his face, but it disappears almost instantly. He takes me into his arms, kissing my neck. "Do you need any help with that?" he asks, pointing at the bandage.

"No, I don't."

Sitting stiffly, I stare out across the water at the Cornucopia in the distance. It takes all my will power not to look him right in the eye and tell him I'm not playing a game anymore. That the sponsors don't matter, this stupid act about a baby is the last thing I care about, and that we shouldn't be wasting our time with these lies. Not when there's a very real chance he'll leave me in the next few days.

I wrap my arm, wincing at the pressure on my cut. "You should sleep," I say, keeping my eyes trained on the injury even though I'm done working with it. Secretly, I pray he agrees. I need a chance to think things through and figure out my next plan of action without having to hide it.

He tenses, and I wonder if he knows. "You should first, there's the baby to think about."

"But I thought you weren't supposed to sleep with a concussion, Peeta."

There's a brief pause. "You don't. But, you…ugh! Katniss…" He trails off, and I think I've won this battle. A tiny smile creeps onto my face. That is, until he says, "Fine, but you still have to rest and I still won't go to sleep. So just…will you stop looking at me like that?"

The smirk disappears. "What good will you do if you're dead on your feet tomorrow? That's not helping either of us. Go to sleep."

He grunts, giving me a warning look, and lies down by my side unhappily. I watch as he buries his feet and arms with the sand and closes his eyes. I'm not sure how long it is before he stops shifting back and forth. Maybe he never falls asleep at all. But I give up waiting and focus on other things.

Like the cold. Bringing my knees up to my chest is a difficult task because my leg is still numb, but I manage. This doesn't warm me up much, but at least I feel more secure.

In the silence, it's too easy to fall asleep. My eyes droop, and my body aches, and I want nothing more than to scoot over next to Peeta and rest for a while.

No, there is something else I want more. And it's the whole reason I bothered arguing with him over staying up in the first place. I want him to survive. Which means I can't sleep, and I can't stay alive for much longer.

So what do I do? Shoot myself with an arrow? Probably more difficult than it sounds. What about falling from a high tree? No, I can't climb. Not with my pathetic, useless excuse of a left leg. Drown myself? Maybe. Though that's a last resort, because suffocation isn't the way I want to go. Besides, how am I supposed to do that if he's awake? I can't die while he's sleeping, because that leaves him unprotected. Though my cannon would always wake him up.

Frustrated, I decide that I'll just cross my fingers and hope the snake was poisoned. Or I could try to bleed to death, if the cut on my arm somehow reopens. This is the only remotely possible idea that I can control, so I unravel the bandage, ripping it wherever I can. My arm begins to bleed again, sluggishly at first, and then I realize how stupid that was.

How do I hide that from him? I think he'll notice the newly-bloodstained bandage. And I can't die now since he's not awake, and there are still too many tributes left, so what was the point of all that?

Groaning quietly, I squint at my arm. So far, poison is my only—

I jump as Peeta sits up and meets my gaze. "I can't. Sorry. I just can't," he says. I look at him, confused. It takes me a few seconds to understand what he means. He can't sleep.

"Fine," I say. He's telling the truth. I can tell. "Why can't you sleep?"

Before he can answer, I remember my arm. The bleeding, bandage-less one.

Subtly as I can, I blindly feel around the sand for the fabric. It's on my right side, away from Peeta, so I grab it. I'll never be able to put it back on without him noticing, so I force myself to my feet, swaying slightly. Another wave of exhaustion hits me, but I don't have time to wait for it to pass. Besides, the pressure on the bitten leg is so intense that offsets the drowsiness.

I look down at him, careful that he can't see the arm or bandage. "Hang on. I'm getting water." With that, I stumble my way down to the water's edge.

Behind me, Peeta says, "Uh, Katniss, you do know that's saltwater, right? Where's the spile?" I slow down, inwardly cursing my mindless mistake. I'm still desperately searching for some explanation when he catches up to me.

He's silent as he takes in the situation, and I just stand there, frozen in place. Nothing happens right away, but it's obvious when he puts two and two together. Closing his eyes, he rubs a hand over his face. "Just give me the spile," he says. His voice is quiet, but I can hear the angry undertone. I'm sure all of Panem can, too.

Crossing my arms over my middle, I feel blood soak into my shirt as I reply, "It's back at the camp." My tone is the exact same as his. I don't care if it's fair or not; I only had one real idea, and he's already ruined it. As far as I'm concerned, I can be as irritated as I want to be.

An idea finally comes to mind. Although it's too late, I try anyway. "I know it's saltwater. That's why this is off." I wave the torn bandage in the air. "I'm just going to soak it."

I'm not fooling him. Clearly. He stares at me, not even remotely convinced. Though I can't really blame him. I wouldn't believe me, either.

His eyes flit down to take in my bloody arm, and then back to me. "Well, clean it up so we can bandage it again."

"Fine." That's the third time an argument has ended that way tonight, and I'm not sure I like this new pattern.

Without another word, I check over Peeta's shoulder for any potential threats, then turn my back on him. I limp into the water until I'm about waist-deep, then I lower my arm until it's just a centimeter or two above the surface. Last time, it stopped bleeding after I soaked it, and I don't want that happening now. Besides, I meant what I told Peeta earlier: There's no way I'm putting it back in with the salt. I'm starting to feel nauseous already, so I can just imagine what that pain would do.

Once I think I've waited long enough, I head back to our place on the beach and sit down. Peeta's out of sight, and my heart pounds a little faster. Maybe I should go find him. Stay with him until he's away from the trees. But just as that thought crosses my mind, he walks in front of me to the water, cleans something off, and leaves again without saying anything.

Before long, he returns and sits down next to me. "We should have water in at least an hour." I don't get a chance to respond, because he immediately continues, "Let me check your wounds."

Staring out at the shining water again, I say, "Nothing's changed." As furious I was earlier about the destruction of my idea, I don't feel anything now. The fight has left me, and this whole situation is making my head ache. I shiver again.

Just to appease Peeta, I show him my arm. It's hastily rewrapped with the torn bandage, and I can see a red streak of blood. But, since neither of us can do anything about that now, I lower it again and move to show my ankle. I don't see a trace of the ugly blue from before, but there's hardly any color left at all. I can almost make out a pale yellow if I really squint. "I think it's better."

He scoots down a little, kneeling to get a better look, and begins pressing on my ankle. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

It hurts. A sharp pain shoots all the way up my leg from wherever his fingers prod my ankle, while the rest of the area is numb as ever.

"Stop," I say, jerking back from him and putting my foot down on the sand. The pain instantly disappears, though now I feel as if I might throw up.

Suddenly, I just need to lie down. I don't care if I have a concussion, and I don't care if Peeta needs to rest. It's cold and every breath takes energy that I don't have. "I'm going to sleep."

I flop down on my back, closing my eyes. Almost immediately, I begin to slip out of consciousness, but Peeta interrupts me. "Wait, did it hurt you? I didn't get to see your ankle properly. What if you're really getting poisoned?" I open one eye and watch as he crawls down to sit by my foot. "Wait just a bit, love. Let me see your ankle again and then you can go to sleep. Okay?"

Well, since the ankle hurts so much, my guess is he's just spreading the poison around. But then again, that's exactly what I want since my bleeding plan failed. Though I do hope to hold on long enough to make sure most of the other tributes are dead before I go.

"Here," I say, lifting the ankle up and putting it in his lap. I clench my jaw, waiting.

"Thank you. You tell me if it hurts, okay?"

He sounds as if he's talking to a little kid or a wounded animal, but I try my best to ignore it. It doesn't take much, since my only current goal is to rest.

It's hard enough to keep silent as he feels around my ankle and lower leg, but he does something that makes it absolutely impossible. I'm not sure exactly what it is—maybe he just pushed a little harder than he had been before—but I can't help the groans that pass my lips. My eyes shoot wide open, and I prop myself up on my elbows.

"What are you doing?" I hiss. "You're making it worse!"

I don't know if that's true, but as far as I'm concerned, anything that causes that much pain can't be good. My eyes are watering, and I bring up a hand to wipe the moisture away, saying, "Just leave it alone."

"I'm sorry," he says, genuine. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Relieved, I watch as he moves back to my side and puts an arm around my waist. "Do you still want to sleep?"

More than he can imagine.

I nod, afraid that my voice will give something away. Just a few moments ago, I'd been hoping that I really was poisoned, and that my death would last at least a few days. But now…well, I still hope for the same things. It's just going to hurt more than I thought it would.

Lying back down, I close my eyes. An alarm is going off in the back of my head, telling me this is a huge mistake. But before I can act on this instinct, I have just enough time to notice how cool the sand is beneath my fingers, and then sleep overtakes me.

XXX

I've never liked dreams much. I don't know about other people, but mine are hardly ever good. My most frequent ones include imagined scenes of my father's death, Prim fighting in the Hunger Games, Gale being whipped to death, Peeta dying in the most gruesome way the Gamemakers could come up with.

Tonight, I don't dream about Peeta, Gale, Prim, or my father. It's just me. Wandering around some place that's oddly similar to one of the barren old arenas I'd seen in the videos before heading into the Games. There isn't shade, water, tributes, or even a sky. There's nowhere to hide from the burning sun.

Before long, I'm so parched that I can't walk anymore. I open my mouth, but the words are lost before they can fully form. And suddenly, I'm more afraid than I've ever been in my life. And so tired. I just want to lie down, right there in that sweltering, dirty environment, and…

I jolt from my sleep, waking to a cold breeze and darkness. But I'm still on fire. My whole body burns. As I lift a hand up to wipe sweat from my forehead, I realize it shakes so badly that it's no use. Slowly, my eyes focus, and I see Peeta sitting next to me.

"Where the spile?" I ask, my voice hoarse and disjointed.

Taken aback, he answers, "I stuck it in a tree nearby." He stands and offers a hand to help me up.

I can barely see, but I spot an outline of the trees somewhere in front of me. But as much as I want to take a step forward, my legs are so heavy that I can't lift them. Like they're made of lead. And my left one is still numb from my foot to my thigh.

Frantic for a reason I can't explain, I reach for Peeta's arm with a trembling hand. Practically choking on my words, I say, "Where is it? I need it."

There's a long pause, and I'm about to go crawling on my knees to find that stupid spile myself so I can put out the fire when he finally asks, "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay. Just…" I let go of his arm, taking a small step in the general direction of the trees. It doesn't take long for me to decide I'll never make it to the dark shadows in front of me. I allow myself to sink back down to the sand. "It's so hot," I say. My fingers tap against my leg, and I can't make them stop.

"Are you sure? You know what, let me carry you," Peeta says, picking me up before I can even answer. If he had any doubt what was going on before, he knows now. I can hear it in his voice.

Then, it finally dawns on me, and _I_ know what's going on, too. How could I not, when I remember the shivering and the incoherent thoughts? The weakness? Numbness? And most of all, the fire—the fire that burns and grows inside my veins with each passing second. It's the venom.

Through the thick fog that's slowly overtaking my brain, I'm still coherent enough to feel a bit indignant as he lifts me up. And being suddenly whisked off the sand is disorienting. At least when I was sitting on the ground, burning, I knew where the sand _was_. Now I'm not so sure.

Trying to stop the dizziness, I close my eyes. As much as I want him to put me down, the most I manage is a sluggish, "I don't want you to…I just want to sleep." I lean my head against his chest, breathing slowly. "I don't want the water anymore."

"Katniss," he says. I don't answer. He shakes me a little. "Katniss. Katniss! Don't…" His voice fades out, replaced by a gentle humming noise. I feel the vibration of his chest, and realize he's still speaking. But I can't hear him.

I shake my head, trying to clear it, and my hearing slowly returns in time for me to catch the next thing he says: "Don't sleep."


	3. Time Up

**A/N: Whew, that was a long break! But we're back with more :) Thanks to everyone who's reviewed the story so far, and especially to Leigh and username 922cf for their awesome support. **It means a lot to us, really. It makes us very happy to see people enjoy this tiny fic ^_^ So, anyway. Just letting you guys know we're back on schedule (one post per weekend) so keep tuned! And before I get too boring, this chapter we give it up for Mr. Peeta Mellark, who offered to narrate (; Enjoy.****

****Disclaimer: We do not own The Hunger Games or any of the characters related to the trilogy. It all belongs to Suzanne Collins. ****

****-The Leeg Twins****

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><p>Three: Time Up<p>

"Katniss. Katniss don't sleep" I say, shaking her gently. She startles and resumes her uncontrollable shaking. "We're almost there. Don't sleep, love."

The dense jungle is even harder to navigate at night, but my most pressing worry at the moment is figuring how in the world I am going to keep Katniss alive now that the venom is kicking in. I look around; the surroundings are familiar. I spot the tree I put the spile in a few feet away. "We're here," I say and set Katniss on the ground, next to the hole I dug to contain the water. The leaf I put as a container didn't work much, so the water is a little filthy, but it will have to do.

"Come on, Katniss, you need to drink some water."

She shakes her head in denial."I don't want any," she says. "I'll choke on it."

"No, you won't," I insist. "You'll feel better, trust me." The desperation in my voice is so obvious, I find it amazing some pair of crazy Capitol lovers haven't sponsored us yet. I don't let Katniss argue back, scooping some of the water with my hands and make her drink it. Thankfully, she cooperates but just like she said, she chokes unable to gulp it down. I panic but try my best not to show it, even if it's dark in here.

"You. . . think water's going. . . to get rid of the venom?"

No. I don't, but I can't allow myself to accept the fact I can't save her.

"Okay, you can drink later," I say, ignoring her comment. "Come on, I have another idea."

I scoop her up and head to the beach.

"No," she complains. "Stop it, Peeta! No. I don't want to. I want to lay down."

"But saltwater might help the bite."

"It doesn't help," she says, exasperated. "Only medicine does."

"I know!" I say. I feel a wave of frustration and fear hit me with the power of a thousand bricks. I don't know what to do. I don't want Katniss to die. She can't die, she simply can't; at least not while I'm still alive.

"You can't give up, okay? You can't die!" I shout, shaking her slightly. I look intently into her eyes, trying to find some solace, but I can't. She knows what's ahead. I pull her into my arms and hug her as tightly as I can, as if in this way she's safe from the world, and the arena, and the venom, and the Capitol. "Don't die, Katniss. Please," I beg. "Not without me."

"Stop that!" she cuts in. "You are going back to District Twelve. It's no use, we already know what's going to happen with me. . . And you have to promise me you'll try to be strong. You have to live through this, Peeta."

I would argue with her, if the idea didn't seem so viable. But the problem is, it is. And I don't want to be the one to go back. Where's the use in that? Returning to a place that will remind me of her no matter what I'd do? I'd be a dead man walking. Unable to live on, forever trapped in the arena of the Third Quarter Quell. I drop my head and say, "I can't, I'll stay trapped here. I'll stay here with you, no matter what happens."

"Hey," she whispers. "Hey, listen to me." Shaking my head, she insists. Looking at me in the eye, she says, "What if I asked you to win for me?"

"You know I ca—"

"But you can win. You can beat the Game."

She means Snow. She wants me to be the one to start the uprising. But hasn't she learned? Hasn't she realized the effect she has, not on me, but on all of Panem? How crucial and beautifully brave she is for all of us? She is the Mockingjay; Cinna's Mockingjay. The hope, the symbol, the Girl on Fire. I am none of those things. I am not as brave, not as powerful. I may have the words, but I lack the spark.

"It has to be you," I whisper, leaning in closer to her as if we were to kiss. But this is not a kiss, this is a secret. "You," I repeat. "Besides, you know you're the reason why I haven't completely lost it." My words shrink down to a mere mouthing, a sound so weak, only Katniss will be able to listen. I don't want anyone else to know what I am about to say. I want this to be sincere.

"You are the reason I wake up with a brush instead of a knife at night. Why I manage to smile even as we face death. . . Katniss, please. You're my life. If you die. . . I die."

She shakes her head, headstrong as ever, even with death lurking around her. "I know, but you have to survive. You have to win. . . for us."

She lets go of me and I only watch as she awkwardly limps her way back to our spot in the sand. What she said, there's a finality to it. An authority. And I remember why. Those words are imprinted with death. They were some of Rue's last words to her.

I remain in the water, swimming a bit and lingering under it until I run out of breath. I do this several times because I find it surprisingly relaxing. But every time I resurface, reality hits me with its full might. Katniss needs medicine, and I don't see help from Haymitch or a Feast coming any time soon. I try to do what Katniss does, deciphering Haymitch's silences and gifts. But I can't do it, not like she can. There's no reason why Haymitch would choose to leave Katniss unprotected. We made a deal, unless . . . Unless what Katniss told me was true, about him making a double deal with us. What if he does intend to keep his word to her but not me? He can't. He wouldn't. Katniss is far more important than I am. Trying to decipher his strategy only leaves me more confused. He wouldn't leave Katniss. He'd send help. But why hasn't he sent any yet? . . . Maybe because he already sent it and I didn't see it. Or maybe he's on his way.

I get out of the water, convinced Haymitch _must_ have sent medicine already and I just didn't see it. I walk along the shoreline and glance every three steps to where Katniss is. She's still awake, but shivering. She must be cold.

Moonlight doesn't make for much help while browsing for a parachute, and during my third time browsing the shore, I decide Haymitch has indeed left us alone. Realizing this, it feels like betrayal. He has never been a polite person, or even a moral person, but he understands the horrors of this contest. He knows what we go through, and leaving us, his kindred, alone is low even for him. I'm just wasting my time.

I kick some sand off to relieve my anger. Some of it gets into my eyes, making them teary, but I rub them ferociously. I wish we had stopped at the plant station during training. Missing the chance to learn about herbs now seems like a foolish thing to have done. Of course, I could go ahead and experiment with the little knowledge I have about the medicinal traits of plants, but poking around herbs whose use I don't know is the same as playing with Katniss's life.

However, in a nearby bush I spot what could be the plant Mrs. Everdeen always used to sell to my dad when we got sick. She used it as some sort of concoction to calm a fever. I don't see how stopping a fever will help Katniss, though. I grab it, nonetheless. But as I gather the spiky little weed, I hear a hair-curling scream. Like the ones in the jabberjay trap, but these are Katniss's screams. I sprint out of the trees and run as fast as I can. I hope those are jabberjays, but the pain in the screams tells me there's no way they could be Capitol-fabricated. Those are true agonizing screams.

"Katniss, Katniss!" I cry, collapsing on my knees to try to stop her writhing. But it's like she can't control herself. All she can do is cry and contort in nightmarish ways. "Hold on, love. No, Katniss. HOLD ON!"

I look all around me, trying to find something to save her. I feel tears rolling down my face. I'm losing her.

"HAYMITCH!" I cry to the sky, to Haymitch. My last resource. "HAYMITCH, PLEASE HELP US!"

I search the sky, praying, willing a parachute into my sight. But nothing happens, and Katniss's screams remain present. My heart races. This is the end. My most frightening nightmare, the one nightmare that never went away even after I agreed to sleep by her side while on our tour. I will watch Katniss die.

"SEND US SOMETHING PLEASE, HAYMITCH!" I shout again, this time louder, hurting my throat. Pain helps me grip on my focus. I remember where I am and what I must do.

I watch the dome flash for a second. Up where the moon is supposed to be, the real world is visible for an instant. Then the flashes happen again, and again. The floor rumbles. Katniss screams. The sky glows. I don't know what's going on, until I spot a hovercraft. Someone is trying to break into the arena. Hopefully it's someone who wants to help us. But a deafening alarm growls, making my ears buzz. Tower-high lamps illuminate the arena with bright, blinding lights revealing the clock for what it really is; a monstrosity. The traps, the mutations, they are all visible, and the arena becomes a dismantled factory of death. I think it's even more somber than what they make us believe it is. Like looking at the naked body of evil itself. Flesh and bone, fresh for you to watch and smell and engrave it in your memory. Along with Katniss's screams, this is horrifying.

The sea surrounding the Cornucopia drains, making the platforms in which we arrived here visible. A voice speaks. It is Claudius Templesmith.

"All tributes report to the launching platforms immediately," he says. "I repeat, all tributes report to the launching platforms immediately."

He explains why, but the rumbling of the mystery instigator's bombs, blowing up the arena's ceiling makes it hard for me to hear. I am afraid, scared out of my mind. Torture awaits, certainly. But where there is the Capitol, there is also medicine. And they will need Katniss alive if they think she knows something. A shiver runs through my spine, because I'm not sure if it is selfish of me to want to have her by my side despite the fact a gruesome future waits. But surely they will set her free when they realize she had nothing to do with this attack. They will spare her.

"Come on, Katniss," I whisper. "They will help us." I walk through the depths of what used to be our mini sea and reach my platform with Katniss in my arms. It starts to descend when I see Finnick, Johanna and Beetee coming out of the jungle with shocked expressions on their faces, screaming something indiscernible. I instantly can tell coming to the platform was a mistake. But it's too late for me to hop out of it without hurting Katniss. The last thing I see before the ground swallows us is the dome bursting into a million sparks with a deafening boom.

Katniss no longer screams, but whimpers and quivers instead. I, on the other hand, shake like a leaf. My mind rushes a mile an hour, building mental scenarios of our death. We are the only two tributes in the hands of the Capitol. Whatever happened up there, they will think we were behind it.

The first thing I see is a group of Peacekeepers with Tasers on hand. They rip Katniss away from me and I get into a fit of hysteria.

"DON'T! KATNISS, NO! KATNISS! LEAVE HER ALONE! KATNISS, KATNISS! PLEASE LEAVE HER!"

A pair of them hold me by my arms but I struggle against them.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I growl.

Katniss! They're taking her away from me and there's nothing I can do. I'm losing her.

"Shut up, or she'll pay for it," one of the Peacekeepers threatens me, but my guess is she will pay for things she didn't even do, anyway. I don't give up, fighting against the grip of the two that have me immobilized.

I watch as she is locked away in a room at the end of the launching room, and I scream her name again. I keep fighting, unable to face the fact I've lost her to Snow and the Capitol. I think I will never accept it. Not while I have the strength to fight for her. I keep struggling and even dare to curse at them. But the last thing I remember is hearing a zap, feeling a sharp, hot pain, and falling into unconsciousness.

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><p><strong>an: Thanks for reading! Keep tuned and remember, feedback is always very welcome :) May the odds be ever in your favor! :D**

**-The Leeg Twins**


	4. Interrogation

**A/N: Thanks to all you readers, subscribers, and special thanks to maryclumsy, SkyeElf, and micmic022, who were all nice enough to review for us! **

**Disclaimer: We don't own The Hunger Games trilogy :)**

**Edit: Sorry to anyone who gets a double email about this chapter. It was acting up and wasn't confirming that it was published, so I'm going to try uploading again.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>I can hear Peeta's yells echoing throughout the hallway, but the only moment I let fear grip me is during the tiny silences between his shrieks. Because, during those times, anything could be happening. He could be dead on the ground, hurt, or already so far away that I'll never hear his voice again. At least when he's screaming, I know where he is.<p>

The moment the door locks behind the Peacekeepers and I, they let me go. My hurt leg gives, and I can't stop the tiny cry that passes my lips as I roughly make contact with the unmercifully hard ground. At the pain, black spots cloud my vision, and my stomach heaves. Fortunately, it's been long enough since I've eaten that I don't throw up.

One of the Peacekeepers jerks me back into a standing position, and I have no choice but to lean against him. The other option—standing with any weight on my leg—is impossible.

He searches me for weapons, and that's when I realize I don't even have my bow and arrow. It must have been left back at the beach. But when I see that this man is the same one who dragged Cinna away, I'd give almost anything to have my weapon and a clear shot.

I blink a few times, and suddenly, I'm not so sure this is the same man after all. No, he can't be. The one that hurt Cinna was taller. He had black hair. Or was it brown? My my mind is so fuzzy that I'm struggling just to remain conscious. The world shifts violently, and holding onto the Peacekeeper doesn't steady me.

The man pushes me forward, and that's when I notice that there are two chairs in front of me. Though when I blindly reach forward to grab the one on the left, it's apparent that my mind is playing tricks on me. There's only one chair. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to find it. Probably because everything has a blurred edge, and my vision goes in-and-out every few seconds.

Someone guides me to the seat, and I slump down, resting my head against the back of the chair and closing my eyes.

A voice speaks. Asks me something. I don't respond. Out of nowhere, I feel a fist make contact with my temple. Then there are more questions.

Things continue like this for a while. I'm questioned about Beetee and hovercrafts and force fields, and how Johanna and I planned to get rid of my tracker. Where the rebels are. None of it makes any sense.

"Did you have a system worked out with Haymitch Abernathy before you entered the arena?" one Peacekeeper asks.

"I don't know."

"What communications have you had with Plutarch Heavensbee?"

"I don't—"

"What is the significance of your mockingjay pin?"

"I don't know," I mumble, over and over. My voice slurs. "I don't. I don't know. I…"

Before I can be harassed about anything else, a door opens. A woman speaks. "The boy's denying everything."

I recognize the next voice. It comes from somewhere to my left, at the very edge of the room. Snow. He's been silent up until now, and I have to wonder if he's been here the whole time. "Were you persuasive?" he asks her.

"Naturally." Even in my delirious state, I'm still coherent enough to understand the woman's next statement. And the threat it carries. "If he's incapable of cooperating, what other use do we have for him?"

Somehow, even though the fire burning my insides is unbearable, I know what this means. And who the boy is.

"Don't," I say, slowly opening my eyes and wiping sweat from my forehead. I look at the two Peacekeepers in front of me. "Peeta didn't know." I still haven't got a clue what they're talking about, but he's probably being interrogated about the same things I am. And he's innocent.

There's movement in my peripheral vision as Snow steps forward, and my gaze jerks to meet his. My body gives a violent shudder, and I grip the chair. "We promised not to lie. To each other," I remind him, struggling to catch my breath. "I keep my promises."

He doesn't immediately respond, and my arms go limp at my sides. The whole world seems to be trembling, and I let out a low moan. The black spots appear again, and one of my hands jerks on its own.

After a lengthy silence that's occasionally interrupted by my groans, one of the Peacekeepers speaks: "She doesn't have much time."

At the moment, that's a blessing.

Finally, Snow nods at the woman and two other Peacekeepers. "I won't need your services any longer. Thank you."

The woman opens the door, leads the two men out, and leaves me alone with Snow.

He doesn't make any move to come near. Watching me with those snake-like eyes, he says, "District 12 is under attack as we speak. Within the hour, it will be completely destroyed."

Stupidly, I try to stand up and come crashing right back down into my chair. To stop all the spinning, I'm forced to squeeze my eyes shut. "You—"

"No, Ms. Everdeen. If you want to help them, I suggest we talk about you." Help them? "I have an offer that will benefit the both of us. If you agree, the bombings will stop and perhaps some of the people in District 12 will survive."

If bombs are being dropped as we speak, I don't have time to mull over his offer. And if I let myself think about District 12, I'll fall apart. So I swallow, pushing all other thoughts away, and try to slow the trembling of my hands. "And Peeta goes free?"

There's a brief pause. "You may escort him out."

Not that it matters, but I find myself asking, "What will I do?"

He almost sounds pleasant as he answers, "What you must."

XXX

The antidote Snow injected into my veins was worse than the snake poison. But after about an hour of screaming and writhing around on the floor, the effects of the venom have worn off. I'm left exhausted, weak, and sorer than I've ever been before, but I'm alive. For the next three weeks or so. After that…

I can't think about that now. It won't help me keep my end of the deal, and I've never been too afraid to die before. Now is not a good time to start. Not after I've already agreed to do it. And it'll be a public execution. More humane than a lot of the ways I could've gone out in the past.

When I finally uncurl my body and sit up, I find that I'm alone. Snow must have slipped out while I was preoccupied with the antidote.

I put a hand on the chair and lift myself up from the ground. Surprisingly, after only a little bit of swaying, I realize I'm able to put pressure on my leg. I can even walk, just not in a straight line. But at least it's progress.

As I walk to the door, I nearly slip in a pool of my own blood. There's a tender spot on the back of my head that must have been cut open during the interrogations, and that's probably where it came from. Head wounds bleed a lot more than most.

I'm just about to step over the blood when a gold glint at my feet catches my eye. I lean down slowly and lift the thing up. It's caked in blood, but there's no mistaking what it is. My pin.

I wrap my hand around it as if my life depends on it. Then, I find my way over to the door. The handle turns effortlessly. Just in case there's some sort of trap on the other side, I ready myself. But nothing happens as I swing the door open. The hall is completely deserted, though there must be Peacekeepers nearby.

Cautiously, I stumble down the hallway that seems much shorter now that my leg can handle my weight. I try every door along the way and find that all are locked. Except one.

It's down at the very end of the hallway, and I don't have to wonder what's inside. After all, Snow will want to remind me what I've agreed to. To prove that he's upheld part of his deal, but that he can take it away as soon as he likes.

And he must know that seeing Peeta again will give me whatever strength I need to follow through with my promise. That I won't betray Snow. I'll support the Capitol until I'm not useful anymore, then I'll die as the Mockingjay for Panem to see. And, since I don't know anything about the remains of District 12, it's all to save the boy inside this room.

With that thought in mind, I push the door open.

He's sitting against the wall, curled up, much like I was a few minutes ago. His head is buried in his arms, so his voice is muffled as he snaps, "Go away!"

As I hastily cross the room over to him, he covers his ears with his eyes shut tightly. And he calls my name. Tells someone—who?—not to hurt me.

I kneel next to him, taking his arms, trying to pull them away from him. He shivers, jerking away from me, and says, "Please, please!" He continues like this, saying my name, begging, repeating 'please', even as I brush the hair away from his forehead, touch his back, do whatever I can to bring him back.

Finally, giving up on gentleness, I drag his arms away from his ears. I only have to keep them pinned to the ground for a few seconds before he finally opens his eyes. For a moment, he stares at me in confusion. I cup one of his cheeks, checking him over for damage, and he jolts. Sitting up straighter, he pulls me into his arms.

"Katniss, are you okay?" he asks quickly, examining my face. Before I can answer, he pulls me in again. "I thought…they tortured you. I heard your screams. I thought you were going to die." Well, I am. But no use telling him that.

He says something else, but I'm too busy taking him in to listen. His face is bruised and swollen in places, and his lip is split. I brush away a bit of the blood with my thumb and keep quiet, even after he's done talking.

"He said they'd leave you alone," I tell Peeta quietly. I keep staring, feeling oddly numb. It's a relief that he's still in one piece, but an hour from now, he'll be gone. And I'll still be in the Capitol. But, looking at him now, I know I made the right decision. Not that I've really had any time to second-guess it, but now I know for sure. Peeta needs to live.

"Can you walk? I have to get you out of here," I say, stiffly rising to my feet and offering my hand.

He takes it, standing up "What? You mean we're escaping?"

Nodding, I avoid his gaze. "Before they come back."

I fight an internal battle with myself and decide that this whole thing will be easier if we get something straight before I start leading him away. "Listen. Do you trust me?"

He seems disoriented, probably from the way he was treated during his interrogations, but he answers. "I…I do, Katniss." He brushes a hand across my face. "I can't believe you're okay."

"I'm okay," I repeat.

Without another word, I lead him out of the room. While we make our way down the hall, my eyes flit around, searching for Peacekeepers. Peeta's bound to realize how suspicious it is that we haven't met anyone yet, but I'll deal with that when it happens.

"They gave me antidote," I tell him to fill the silence, purposely avoiding Snow's name.

He begins to slow, but I urge him along as he says, "I can see that." Abruptly, he yanks his arm from grip. "Katniss, wait. Don't…who knows what they'll do if they find us here. We have to think this through."

"What's there to think through? We're fine." I take his hand again and tug him around a corner. I'm being short with him, but I don't know how much time Snow is giving me. He said that the Peacekeepers will get Peeta out of here if I can't, but I don't trust them.

After walking to the very end of this new hallway, we reach a blue door. I stop. This is the last door before we split. I open my mouth and look at Peeta, ready to turn the handle, but I can't. Not yet.

Peeta looks at me, sensing my hesitation. Does he know something's off? "Come on. They'll find us!" he says, moving to open the door himself.

My initial instinct is to knock his hand away, but I spot a Peacekeeper behind us. My eyes widen, and I shove Peeta through the door, slamming it shut behind us. I feel around for a lock and realize there isn't one. My grasp tightens on his hand as we hurry down another hallway.

We reach the end of it sooner than I'd like, and I come to a halt. This is it. Where we leave each other. He's supposed to go left, and I take a right.

I plant myself in front of him, put both of my hands on his arms, and kiss him. "Take a left."

It doesn't take long for him to realize what's going on. He pulls his arms back and stares down at me. "No. No way, Katniss. Don't…No! I won't. I'm coming with you."

He begins to pace around, stewing on his anger, and I just watch. I'll let him say what he needs to, so that he won't feel guilty later, wondering if he could've done more. "Have you lost your mind?" he demands. "There's no way, you hear me? No way. I'm staying with you."

Since I've been planning this out from the moment I made my deal with Snow, I manage to keep calm. "You have to go, one way or another. There's no point arguing with me." I'm telling the truth. We'll get separated either way, but this is the best chance of getting out of the building that he has. Even though Snow could easily be tricking me, this is my only option.

"Why?" he asks, speaking rapidly. "What have they told you? Who threatened you?" I think he's starting to understand how little power he has right now, because there's more than a hint of desperation in his tone. "There has to be another way! Let me stay. I don't care what happens. I just want to be by your side."

Even though I'd obviously expected him to put up a fight, I feel myself growing impatient. Any minute, some Peacekeeper is going to come by and drag him away to who knows where. "No one threatened me!" I say. "I made a deal, okay? Splitting up was my idea."

This does the trick, because he tenses and stops pacing. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he manages to spit out, "What?"

I grab his arm again and put my other hand on the side of his face. Miraculously, an apology is on the tip of my tongue. But I'm not sorry enough to say it. "They were bombing 12! Did they tell you that? They were going to kill Prim and Gale and…and everyone there."

This distracts him for the moment. "Are they safe?"

"I don't know." I turn left so I can begin to walk him down the hall. My pace is slow because I'm not ready to lose him, but I know we have to keep moving. Snow must be getting impatient. "They'd already started dropping the bombs, but they stopped once I agreed with Snow. At least there's a chance they're alright."

"Do you know that for a fact, or are you just willing to trust Snow's word?" Peeta asks. At least he's calm enough to keep his voice quiet.

I'd never trust Snow, and I know there's a good chance the people I love in District 12 are already gone. But I can't dwell on this, because right now, I need to focus on Peeta's safety. "What else am I supposed to do? Do you think he would have just let us leave if I hadn't made a deal? We'd both be trapped here, and you know it. So go." I give him a little push.

Ever stubborn, he turns to face me. "Not if you don't come with me. Let me stay, Katniss." I raise an eyebrow, tired of trying to convince him. He continues, "We'll make another deal. Promise them we'll fix the unrest."

"Because it worked so well the first time? Besides, that's what I'm supposed to do already." Over his shoulder, I spot the exit at the end of the hallway. Determined, I step around him and quicken the pace. "If you're here, they can hurt me. If you're not, everything's going to be fine. Don't you want to check on your family?" This is a low blow, but I know we're running out of time.

"I don't need to check to know where they are. They weren't hunters, Katniss."

We reach the door at the end of the hallway and make eye contact. It's obvious that, by now, he sees that it's over. That he won't get his way, and that I'm not coming with him. And I know I'll spend whatever time I have left trying to forget the look on his face. "This is the end. Of it all," he whispers.

As much as I want to delay the moment, just for a few seconds, I see two Peacekeepers heading towards us. We've taken too long.

I throw my arms around the back of Peeta's neck, and I try to stop myself from trembling. Tonight, when I'm locked up or wherever I'll be, I'll let myself cry all I want. But not now. "It'll be okay," I say, pulling away from him. "It's going to be…"

I want to tell him that my execution and everything else will be over soon, but I know this won't do anything to quiet his fears. So I just force a smile onto my lips and say nothing else.

He stares down at me, and I feel my throat tighten. "I love you," he says. There seems to be something else he wants to say, but instead, he just leans down and kisses me. "Goodbye, Katniss."

I open my mouth to respond, but by the time I've regained the ability to speak, the door has shut behind him. For who knows how long, I just stand there, staring at it.

It's as if all the air has been knocked out of my lungs. I feel alone, and cold, and completely hopeless for one of the first times in my life. This moment might be the hardest one. Worse than any torture or execution. But at least I did what I came to do. I got Peeta out alive.


	5. Double Crossed

**A/N: Well after that long hiatus, here's chapter 5! Thanks for all your guys' support, especially all you lovely people who review! ^_^ Peeta sends you cookies and love. Anyway, sorry if we made you wait too much, but there's this little situation where life exists and well... it's busy :B But here we are, chapter 5, narrated by the baker's son, Peeta Mellark :)**

**Disclaimer: We do not own the Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins and Lionsgate do.**

**-The Leeg Twins**

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><p>Chapter 5 – Double Crossed<p>

As soon as I close the door, I collapse onto my knees. I feel like the air´s been knocked out of me. The ground moves and everything spins, then it all sinks in. I´m never seeing Katniss again. Just thinking about it, just even considering the idea of such possibility makes my throat close up in a painful knot. I´ve lost her and this time it´s for good. I´ve lost her and there´s absolutely nothing I can do about it. But what now? I lift my face, for the first time registering my surroundings and my stomach sinks. This is no exit nor gateway to my freedom, as Katniss suggested. This is just another questioning room with nothing more than cold concrete walls, filthy floor, and a single light bulb dangling from a pending thread. But then I spot it, a desk and a thin white-haired man sitting behind it, an empty metal chair which doesn't look very inviting. I swallow and ball my fists in order to control the boiling anger seeing President Snow causes me to feel. Slowly, I get onto my feet, afraid that if I stand up too abruptly I'll fall again.

"I was beginning to wonder about Miss Everdeen's power of persuasion over you. Come, sit," the president says, but for a while I just stand there. I clench my jaw and scowl at him. My breathing unsteadies and I'm afraid that if I move, I might try to attack him. But nevertheless, I manage to control myself and sit. He doesn't say anything but just examines my angry look.

"How different you are from Miss Everdeen," he finally speaks, helping himself some tea from a refreshment tray an Avox must have brought before I came here. "If you had been the one to pull out those berries, we wouldn't have been in this predicament now. But of course, what has passed is past. There's no use in dwelling in what already happened. Is there, Mister Mellark?" He raises a questioning eyebrow at me before taking a sip from his cup of tea, but I don't answer. He will not make me speak.

"You have a talent with words, as well. It certainly would have helped," he pauses, waiting to see if I intend to answer. "I have always had a fond passion for words, you know. In my opinion, they are the sharpest kind of weapon. It takes an ignorant man to kill with a sword, but it takes a bright man to slaughter with a word. "

What about Avoxes? I'm tempted to ask. Were they bright men, then? I suspect they were.

"I have an offer for you, Peeta," he says. "Lend me your talent, and in exchange, you will be free."

Well, he must be stupid if he thinks I'll buy that. Doesn't he know that as long as Katniss is imprisoned I'll never be free myself?

"I need you to quench the fire your fellow tribute has sparked."

And that's what it takes for me to talk. "Fiancé," I finally interrupt him. It takes him aback.

"Pardon?"

"You said Katniss is my fellow tribute, but she's my fiancé. We _were_ going to get married before the Quarter Quell. Katniss is my fiancé."

Snow stares me down but then his puffy lips curl into a smile that makes him look even creepier than he normally is.

"Of course, and I am certain you'd go to the end of the world to see her again, wouldn't you?"

My face pales down. The way he asked me makes it sound more of a threat than an innocent question. But with this man there is no such thing as innocence, that's why it sends a shiver through my spine.

"Appease the unrest, play as the Capitol's advocate, and if you succeed you shall see Katniss again."

I try not to react, but even though I try, my face relaxes just thinking I might be able to see her again. But can I trust this potential scenario? The odds that President Snow will keep his word are questionable. What if she kills Katniss anyway? My sweat turns cold just from considering the possibility.

"I want to see her now," I say.

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Then how do I know you're not lying to me?" I ask, my voice a bit too loud. Instantly I regret to have snapped. I'm at the snake's lair here, I can't afford to be irrational. I cool myself down and assume a more diplomatic approach. "I accept, but I need a guarantee." A glimpse, her voice, anything at all that proves me she's safe. But the president doesn't answer.

He stands up, leaving his tea unfinished, and passes by me. Before he exits the room he says, "Our agreement is if you appease the unrest, you shall see you _fiancé_. Nothing more."

"President," I say. "Rest assured, if something happens to Katniss, you will face the uprisings with nothing than two martyrs Panem will want to avenge."

"We can always set the example with your district." The door squeals as he shuts it and I'm left alone in this dark room fearing about the thousand different ways Katniss can be tortured to death, and the haunting probability of District 12 being mitigated.

"Good night, Panem! Thank you for joining us in this special broadcast. I'm Caesar Flickerman, and I'll be your host tonight. This is a very special night, my friends. I am joined here by a nation-wide celebrity. You know him for his charming demeanor, his camouflaging skills, and according to the ladies, that swoon-worthy smile. I'm talking about one of the District 12's star-crossed lovers, Peeta Mellark!"

The guy in charge of the special effects plays the queue music for my entrance. The second I step into the studio, a blinding light trains on me and the audience claps and cheers. Caesar greets me and invites me to sit down.

"Welcome, welcome my friend! Come on, let's sit down. I know you could stand there all day, but my bones are giving out on me now," He says, the audience laughs.

"Well, it doesn't show, Caesar," I say, smiling charmingly but taking a seat.

"Ah," he says with his white-teeth smile. "Here we are. Who'd tell right?"

"Who'd tell…"

"But tell us Peeta, what brought you to stay here in the Capitol, after that shocking interruption of the Games." Well Caesar, you see, I got abducted and the only reason I'm here is to save Katniss.

"Well Caesar, after that peculiar incident Katniss and I were horrified. We didn't know what was going to happen. I mean, we already had wrapped our heads around the idea we had to play, and then they interrupt the Games like that. It was…

"Shocking," Caesar says, agreeing with me.

"Yes. We feared for our lives, but we never lost faith in the Gamemakers' concern to protect us. And here we are, safe and sound!" I say, even chuckle a bit. Though the words feel alien; I feel like I need to wash my mouth with soap. "But to answer your question, Caesar, Katniss and I decided to stay here for a while because… because we felt the need to support the Capitol given the pitiful circumstances."

"What do you mean?" Caesar asks, intrigued.

"We owe it to you guys," I hear the roaring applause of the audience. I smile at them and think, you won't know what hit you. "We do. Back at home, in District 12, Katniss and I would think so much about how blessed we were. About being able to be victors, both of us. It would've been so easy, you know? To swallow the berries, or even if the Gamemakers decided the rules were rules. I mean we could have died. And yet we were granted with victory so we could stay together. That's the greatest gift I've ever received, being able to live with Katniss. And she thinks the same way. The least we can do to show our gratitude is to stand by the Capitol when times are worst. And right now, it seems like you could use a little help."

"And whom better than our good friends Katniss and Peeta, right?" The audience cheers in agreement.

"Exactly," I say. "You have our full support."

"Thank you, Peeta. These are certainly hard times, but we have faced worse. Have you had a chance to talk with Katniss about how she feels about all of this?" No. You know, there's the minor setback she's locked away with a death sentence dangling above her head.

"Yes. When we're at the apartment we talk about it. We keep constant track of the news. She's devastated, you know. In fact, it really bums us both. It's sad to see we're fighting over a complete misunderstanding." Caesar seems interested and encourages me to explain further. "The berries," I say.

"We've said this time and again, a lot of people think it had some hidden symbolism. But really, we were just desperate. I couldn't imagine how life would be without…" I can't finish. I can't lie about this because this is really the way I feel right now. It's a paralyzing fear that steals my sleep every night. It makes me wake up in the middle of the night, in this state where all I can do is beg the Peacekeepers to let me see her. I feel a drop of warm moisture rolling down my cheek. Oh gosh, not in national television.

"I'm sorry," I say with a broken voice. "I… just considering the idea is horrifying."

I hear a collective sigh, then applauses and cheers. I feel the amiable pat of Caesar's hand on my back.

"There, there," he says. "I think we know how in love you two are." I nod.

"Very much in love," I say.

"Well, we're almost out of time but is there anything else you want to add?" asks Caesar

"Now that you mention it Caesar, I do," I say and then adjust my position to look straight into the camera's lens as if it was the eyes of all of Panem. "I want the people of the districts to listen to what I have to say. I beg you, please stop the uprisings. They will bring nothing but death, pain, and destruction. Please, I know what you must thinking, that I am crazy. But really, is this what you want? To bear the death of thousands of mothers, fathers, children, and lovers on your conscience? This is all a misunderstanding. Katniss and I never intended to be disrespectful towards the Capitol, and I'm sure that's the way you feel too. Stop, save your lives, save yourselves. Uprisings will only lead to a painful war, and we know that is something we cannot afford. In our history we have seen the great deal of destruction our ancestors have been capable of. Because of them, there are very few left of us. We can't afford to lose one more brother, one more sister. So think about this, think about humanity. Do you really want to die for a cause that is inexistent? Or are you willing to forgive and forget and unite as the great nation we are, for the sake of our survival? So please, make sense of what I'm telling you. Save your family, save yourself. Stop the uprisings," I end and Caesar keeps quiet for a minute. The words I've spoken leave a bitter taste in my mouth; they're not my own, they were fabricated by the Capitol.

"There you have it, folks. Our very own Peeta Mellark, wise beyond his years and lecturing us on peacemaking," says Caesar. "Well, unfortunately we've reached the end of our show, but don't forget to tune in tomorrow for another interesting afternoon with our friend, here. Thank you for watching, goodnight, Panem!"

"And. . . that's a wrap!" exclaims the cameraman, as the little red light on the camera turns off, indicating we're off air.

I don't even have time to get up on my own, when there's already a pair of Peacekeepers dragging me out of the studio and shoving me in the cell that is to be my home for as long as the unrest remains. According to the president, this way I will be able to choose how long I want to sleep on the floor. But I don't want to sleep on the floor. Not one day more, and still, days keep passing. One, two, three... a week, two weeks... until I lose track of the day and time. The nightmares become harder to endure, and loneliness starts getting the best of me. Occasionally, I'll hear her name as the Peacekeepers pass through my cell. It makes me stand straight up and listen closely to their conversation. On those days, I'll be unsettled for the rest of the day. On the off cases when I'm not expected to go through an interview with Caesar, I get beaten by Peacekeepers. Sometimes they don't feed me. Sometimes they lock me in darkness until I can't tell if a whole day has passed. Mild tortures, to say the least. But in every and each one of them my fear is whether Katniss is forced to go through this too, or through much worse.

I'm lying on the floor when I hear the gate creak open, then two pair of boots walk to me and pull me up.

"Get up! Get up!" One says. " You're live this afternoon."

They take me to the prepping room. They let me wash up, they dress me up in a fine dark blue suit, they put on makeup on my face so I don't look as thin and underfed. When I'm escorted to the studio's door, a guard stops us.

"He's not supposed to go in until five," the guard tells my escort Peacekeeper, who grimaces as he hears the news. "They're still on the interview. "

_They're_. Who are _they_? My heart races, thinking it's Katniss.

"But I have to go in," I interrupt.

"You're not going anywhere," the guard says.

"Just wait over there in the corner," the guard tells my escort. "She'll come out in five minutes." Only fractions of a second pass before he realizes his mistake. His eyes shoot wide open, but it's too late, my escort isn't holding me back and the guard doesn't expect me shoving him away. When I open the door I stumble upon an unbelievable picture. It's Caesar Flickerman interviewing no one else than Katniss Everdeen.

"Katniss!" Is all I can say.


	6. Traitors and Treason

_Author's Note: Hello! Just a heads up, believe it or not, this might actually be our second-to-last chapter. Right now it is, but that depends on a few things we need to figure out. Anyhoo, since you may not get any more Katniss for a little while, I'd love to hear what you guys thought/think or any predictions. Those are always fun, and I get all giddy. Thanks! Hope you enjoy :)_

_-Tay_

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><p>"…will keep growing until the day Snow's dead." This is technically where the script ends, so I rush to finish speaking before the interview stops. This is my last chance to address Panem, after all. I have to use it. "I wish I could have been the one to do it. He's the reason I watched Rue die, he bomb—"<p>

The cameras finally turn off, but just a few seconds too late. I've already said what I wanted to. Diverging from the script enough that maybe, just maybe, my death won't do so much damage. That instead of instilling some sort of fear in the people in the districts like Snow is hoping for, it'll motivate them. I never really set out to be a martyr, but if it's what can end this war and I'm going to die anyway, I might as well try.

Caesar doesn't say anything as I calmly stand up and make my way over to Snow. He's watching, clearly displeased with me, but there's nothing he can do. I'm sure they've already got my execution date set up, and my loved ones are out of his reach. I haven't heard anything about Peeta, so that's the best sign I could hope for.

There's no word yet on Gale or Prim or my mother, but either way, I know they're not in District 12 anymore. I'm not sure where else they could've gone, but I have faith that Gale would've gotten them away from the bombings. This hope is the only thing I've really been able to hold on to these last days, because the alternative is too painful to consider.

"Is that it?" I ask Snow, feeling my heartbeat pound in my chest. "Convincing enough?"

He gives me the slightest hint of a smile, with a single nod of his head. "I almost believed you do want me dead."

I stare at him, wondering why he continues to play games like this when he's clearly beat me. I'm about to respond when there's a commotion over his left shoulder. Simultaneously, we turn. At first, I can just see a large Peacekeeper, then another standing in front of him. Are they fighting? Over what?

That's when I see Peeta's blonde hair. Barely, and only for a few seconds, because one of the Peacekeepers is trying to drag him away.

Just to make sure this isn't some hallucination, I hurry across the room as fast as my legs will carry me. Since I'm in heels and a dress, this isn't easy, but Peeta's stubborn. By the time I reach him, they still haven't managed to take him.

When I see that it really is him, I immediately wish I'd stuck to my speech, word-for-word. Fear swells up in my throat. I stammer out a few unintelligible sentences, but I'm not sure what I intend to say. This is precious time I should be using to renegotiate with Snow or tell Peeta to run, but nothing useful comes out.

I swallow, noticing that the Peacekeepers have stopped fighting him. Now that I've already seen him, maybe they figure there's no point.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, sounding more frazzled and accusatory than I mean to. "You left days ago!"

Snow finally appears behind me, walking slow enough that it's obvious he's not concerned that I've found Peeta. Even though I never take my eyes off of Peeta, I speak to the president. I have to remind myself to keep my temper in check now that we're both in his grasp. "He never left, did he?"

Before Snow can answer, even though he clearly doesn't have to, Caesar speaks up from somewhere behind us. "Hello, Mr. President. Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all. Your arrival is timely as always," Snow says, pleasant enough. His voice changes slightly as he addresses the Peacekeeper closest to me. "Please escort Miss Everdeen to her…quarters."

The man lets go of Peeta to take hold of me, and Peeta somehow manages to squeeze his way between us.

I'm torn between demanding for answers and doing exactly as I'm supposed to. My every instinct tells me to put up a fight, and I can feel anger—no, hate—boiling up inside me. If I was alone, I would've made sure the Peacekeepers pulled me out kicking and screaming. But now I don't know what to do. Not when my choices could hurt Peeta, which is what I fought so hard to avoid.

While I want to shake the Peacekeeper's grasp off of me, Peeta's the one I grab. I pull him close.

This was supposed to be easy. In fact, I did a good job preparing myself for my little announcement about being a treasonous murderer. But not for this. Why would I, when I thought I'd never see Peeta again?

For a few seconds, I just stand there, unsure what to do. I hate to admit it, but I don't want to leave him. I'm not even sure I can. Why? Mostly for my own selfish reasons. There's a tiny fear that sets in whenever I think about my public execution, which I've just made a reality. My death won't be quick, and it won't be painless. And I want Peeta's comfort, no matter how unfair that is. He would know how to help, what to say and do.

This thought snaps me back to reality. It reminds me what my original goal was as I went into the Quarter Quell. To protect him.

"You have to leave," I tell Peeta forcefully.

Then, I turn to Snow. "He leaves the Capitol today, and you never go near him again." I search for something to threaten him with, but I don't have many options. The best I can do is a pathetic, "We had a deal. If you don't keep your end, I won't keep mine."

Though I'm not sure how, since I was supposed to die from the beginning. We took a little detour so that I could do enough press to assure the Capitol that I support them, but I always knew this was it. Especially since they have Peeta, so they probably figure they don't need me anymore. I've never been good at the interviews. Not like him, anyway.

"Actually, Katniss, I have a deal with the president too," Peeta says, staring at Snow. "But I think I'm a bit lost here…"

I could hardly expect anything different, but I still feel anger boiling up inside me. At Peeta making a deal—whatever it is—and at Snow for lying to me.

"Now, let's not rush things, children," Snow says easily, as if all of this was supposed to happen. But I know it wasn't. "Miss Everdeen, why don't you return to your quarters and prepare yourself for dinner while we wait for Mister Mellark to finish his broadcast?" He turns back to the Peacekeeper again. "Please, escort her out and make sure her prep team arrives safely."

Peeta nods at me, like he thinks I've been waiting for his approval to decide when I'll leave. It's probably supposed to reassuring, but I don't think he knows what my deal with Snow includes. If he was there for the end of my interview, he must not have heard what I said. He was too busy dealing with Peacekeepers. And if he did know, he wouldn't be standing here so calmly.

Maybe he can't sense it, but there's a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My instincts tell me that, once I walk through the door, I won't seem again. Though I wasn't even supposed to run into him in the first place.

I glare at Snow. It's a weak form of retaliation, but I don't have many options.

As I stare into the eyes that have haunted my nightmares since the Games, a horrifying thought dawns on me. What if Peeta and I made the same deal? What if today's the day Peeta lies on national television about some rebel plot he led and how he intends to overthrow the government? Like I just did?

But it doesn't make sense. Why would Snow want to kill us both off at once, instead of keeping one around, just in case? Unless...his plan worked and we've successful destroyed the morale of all the fighting districts. Maybe it's all over, and neither of us serve any real purpose now, for either side.

Still, I have to try. I've already given my speech on national televisions, and I can't go back, but it's not too late for Peeta.

I want to send him a message in some sort of code, so Snow doesn't have a chance to refute it. But I'm running out of time. So quickly that my words run together, I say, "You didn't commit treason, you didn't know about the plot, you don't want to mur—"

I cut off as a hand clamps down on my arm. As one of the men drags me out the door, I try again, "You don't want to murd—"

Aggravated, I give up because Peeta interrupts. I can't hear exactly what he's saying over all the chaos and swearing going on—from both me and the Peacekeepers—but all three of us nearly topple over when Peeta throws himself against the one pulling me away.

Someone grabs him and jerks him away. Just as the door slams shut behind me, I hear Snow saying, "Decorum, Mister Mellark. Decorum."

XXX

I can't help but feel like I did on the night before I entered the arena for the first time. Sick, worried, and incredibly determined. I know there's nothing I can really do for myself, but my intention wasn't ever really to live through this. Maybe there's still something I can do for Peeta.

I have a bad feeling about his interview, but I've been locked up in some cell, so I haven't seen anything. Though it was freezing and dark and I could hear almost nonstop screaming, being inside the cell was better than my room. At least now, Snow can treat me like the prisoner I am, instead of some guest. Somehow, I like that better.

Two Peacekeepers lead me down to some room with a large, mahogany table and hard wooden floor. I look around in surprise. I'd assumed Snow's comments about dinner were simply to calm Peeta enough that he'd stay in-character during his interview as the poor, love-struck victor from 12.

The Peacekeepers, one man and one woman, guide me to a chair. I stiffly sit down, ignoring them both. There's no one else here yet, and when the Peacekeepers walk away, I briefly consider trying to make a break for it. It's so quiet that it seems like I've actually been left alone. But, of course, I glance behind me and see that they both flank the door. The woman scowls as if she believes every lie I told Caesar today, and the man just watches apathetically.

Only a few silent moments pass before the door opens. I spin around and see Peeta being shoved into the room. Automatically, I get to my feet, my chair squeaking against the floor. The next thing I know, he's pulled me into a tight hug.

"You're okay!" he says, sighing and tightening his arms around my waist.

I nod. While he's holding me, me thoughts slow down to the point that I can't think about anything at all. Except how warm he is. And how right this feels. How much I'll miss him. Taking two handfuls of his shirt, I pull myself closer to him. They'll have to pry my fingers away before I'll let go.

In theory, I should be angry that he's making deals with Snow behind my back. It defeats the whole purpose of nearly everything that I was trying to accomplish when I agreed to be the voice of the Capitol. And then, of course, die some public death a few days later. But I can't worry about that now. When I step away, I know I'll have to. But this thought just gives me another reason to cling to him.

"I'm okay," I agree quietly, unsure if this is a lie or not. I guess it depends on what happened during his interview with Caesar.

Unwillingly, I pull myself away and look up into his eyes. "Are you?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

Peeta grabs my hand and looks over his shoulder at the door. Maybe he's wondering if we can try to run, just like I did. Leaning closer to me, he whispers, "What did you say in your interview?" He makes a face, frowning a little, before he adds, "I need to know.

I'm not ready to tell him. Truth be told, I'd half-expected him to come marching in here, upset with all of us because he'd found about the execution date I'd practically set myself. So, when he doesn't seem to know, I decide I'll do what's best for both of us and keep my mouth shut. I'll have to tell him before Snow comes, but I'm going to take this moment for all it's worth.

"Nothing," I say. My eyes move over his shoulder towards the Peacekeepers, as if they're the reason I'm not talking. Of course, they already know how my interview went. They were there.

The separation is already starting to get to me, so I take a step closer to Peeta and squeeze his hand. "Why didn't you leave?

"They never gave me a chance," he says. "They threatened me and told me if I didn't cooperate, be a spokesperson to relieve the tension in the districts, they'd hurt you. So I talked Snow into letting you live and killing me instead if I stepped out of line. But not you…never you."

Furious, I open my mouth to tell him how stupid that was, but he keeps explaining. "And then, just now, they forced me to speak with some ear prompter where I agreed with whatever you said in your interview. What about you? What did they make you do?"

Leave it to Peeta to make his own deal, just to ruin mine. For the first time since we left the Quell, I feel genuine anger at him. The whole _idea_ was that Snow would hurt me. Kill me, even. I knew that when I agreed to our deal, and it was all for Peeta and District 12. Of course Snow never meant for me to stay alive as the Capitol's spokesperson, because I'm not good with cameras or people or words.

That's what Peeta's for. Even if he is supposed to be living safely somewhere, finally getting what he always wanted: to be himself, away from the Games. But instead, we're both here, being controlled more than we ever have been before.

I open and close my mouth, waiting for my mind to completely understand what he's just said. About agreeing with my interview. Then, it hits me full-force. I was right about Snow getting rid of us both. So does that mean the war is over? Have the districts already fallen?

My hand jerks out of Peeta's as if he's burned me. I feel my eyes widen as I look at him in disbelief. "You what?" I snap. "You agreed with everything I said?" Before I can stop them, the words come spilling out of my mouth. "I said I wanted to kill Snow! That I helped plan the rebellion and the treason and the—you _agreed_?"

His jaw drops, and the first thing he says is, "We are so dead."

I glare at him, feeling my nostrils flare. That was one of the dumbest things he could've—

"What?" he says. "Don't look at me like that! What was I supposed to do? _Refuse_? In front of all of Panem? They'd kill you! Or worse! Besides, why did you say that in the first place?" Before I get the chance to say he's not the only one who can make infuriating underhand deals with Snow, he continues, "You know what? It doesn't matter. We can't pull back now."

"They're already going to kill me. That's the idea!" My voice rises with each word. I try to breathe in and out through my nose to calm myself down, but it doesn't do much. I don't like the sound of this 'we' business. It's true that I can't pull back now, but surely Peeta can. He may have agreed with me on television, but if he didn't say anything specific, there's still a chance. Maybe I can find a way around this.

I take on the commanding tone I used earlier with Snow. "Tell them you didn't understand," I say. "That you don't like the Games, but you never meant to overthrow the government. Just…tell them _something_."

"Fat chance. And leave you to die here alone? Who do you think I am?"

"I don't know," I say. I look at him, trying to figure out what could be enough to make him change his mind. A few ideas come to mind, but they might just make him angrier. Not that that's my problem. Still, the sentence tastes bitter as I add, "I thought you'd do anything for me. But you want me to die for nothing? You'll just go ahead and get yourself killed anyway?"

My voice is flat, like I'm not even asking him. Knowing how stubborn Peeta can be, I suppose this is true. He really will just have me die with no purpose.

A small voice in the back of my head says that I helped 12. By joining in with Snow and the Capitol, I stopped the bombing. Though now I have my doubts about that too. And anyway, at this moment, it doesn't mean to me as much as Peeta's survival.

"No," he says. "I want…" Peeta lowers his voice, shooting a glance towards the Peacekeepers. "We need an escape plan."


End file.
